Christine The Viking
by bbst
Summary: ...and other random drabbles.
1. Christine The Viking

**Disclaimer: You know what? I'm only gonna say this once to avoid tedium. I don't own crap.**

**A/N: Hi, guys! Miss me? Of course you did. Anyway, this story is going to be comprised of random drabbles. Mostly funny ones, but a few will be serious. Probably a few random crossovers, too. It will be updated...whenever I feel like it. Let's go!**

**XxxxxxX**

Christine smiled as she examined herself in front of the mirror. She had discarded the white dress she had been rehearsing _Faust_ in, and donned a rather...interesting outfit. She now wore brown boots, loose brown pants, a gray tunic with a brown belt around it, and a brown vest that appeared to be made out of animal fur. An iron helmet with horns on either side adorned her head, and she held a rather sharp looking battle-axe in her hand.

Why was she dressed like this, you might ask? Well, you see, Christine had decided to embrace her Viking heritage.

Seriously.

The thought first came to her mind a few months ago when the opera house had been performing Wagner's _Die Walkure_. She had, of course, always known that she must have had some Viking ancestors. Heck, everyone in Scandinavia did. She had even seen some old rune stones in Sweden that her father insisted bore the name "Daae". How did he know that? Because he was awesome, that's how.

But it never phased her until recently. There was just something about seeing her coworkers dressed as her ancestors and singing difficult notes that made her adrenaline rush. She was surprised, during one rehearsal, that she had the sudden urge to _break_ something. She wanted to break everyone's props, punch out Carlotta, and then set the stage on fire. _Her, _sweet, innocent, Christine Daae!

It made her stop and take a look at her life. She had always been this docile, sweet thing. She hardly ever raised her voice, not even to tell her stalker boyfriends to leave her alone! She never even got into a bar fight! _Everyone_ had gotten into at least once by her age(or at least that what the ballet rats told her). Her ancestors would be so ashamed!

But not anymore, she decided! She was going to bring back the Viking ways! Just as her ancestors took over Russia, she was going to take over France. Starting, obviously, with the opera house. Everyone knew that the French were nothing without their fancy music which they probably overpaid to listen to!(Or perhaps that that only applied to their friendly neighborhood opera ghost.)

She had already started her conquest by raiding the costume and prop rooms for her outfit. Though why exactly the prop room had an actual axe instead of a fake one is till a mystery.

She suddenly winced as she heard a series of sour notes pierce the air. It sounded like someone was beating a cat with a violin. She quickly deduced that it must have been the prima donna, Carlotta. Or, as she was now going by, La Helado de Vainilla.

Christine smiled to herself. She now knew where to strike next.

**XxxxxxxX**

Christine was hiding behind a curtain, watching the scene on the stage. Apparently, the diva was outraged over the part of Marguerite being given to Christine.

"This is ridiculous!" the diva exclaimed. "Everyone knows that I am the best singer in Paris - no, the world, - no, the _universe_! Why would you give the lead to that stupid little girl?"

"But, La Car – I mean, er, La Helado de...um, anyway, we're sorry, but the ghost threatened us!" one of the managers, Firmin, explained. "He's already dropped three chandeliers this past week alone. And let's not forget what he did to that poor mime. It's best not to antagonize him."

This is where the diva decided to sway them by singing(i.e. butchering) The Jewel aria. She had just barely sung the opening words when Christine decided to attack. With a battle cry, she swung the axe above her head and charged at the other singer. When Carlotta saw her, she let out a shriek that shattered a few windows.

She tried to run from the seemingly crazed Swede, but she didn't get very far. Christine tackled her rival to the ground, which was impressive considering her small size. She then used her axe to chop the poor woman's hair off, completely ignoring her hysterical yelling and crying. When she finished, she stood and attached the hair to her belt.

"Christine, what are you _doing?" _one of the ballet girls asked, her jaw hanging open.

She smiled and looked around. Everyone was staring at her with incredulous expressions.

"Greetings, everyone!" she cried. "I have decided that it was high time that I obeyed my warrior blood and took over this weak land. Anyone who stands in my way shall feel my wrath!"

"I wasn't standing in your way! Why did you cut off my hair?" La Helado de Vainilla(or HdV, as we will now call her) demanded.

"Along my journey, I shall be collecting trophies from my defeated enemies," Christine announced. "It will help serve to ward off any challengers and show what a mighty warrior I am. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have things to do."

She then ran out into the streets, yelling in Swedish, calling on Norse gods, and causing several carriage crashes.

Nobody could do anything but stare after her.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: Hmm, not quite sure how that turned out. Oh well, there will be more to come. I also apologize for the many stereotypes and false facts that I'm sure I'm using.**

**Review, please. It's the only way I know if this is any good or not.**


	2. Story Time With Erik

**A/N: Well, this is...something. Btw, I'm using Leroux!Erik in this chapter.**

**XxxxxX**

Christine was bored.

At Erik's insistence, she had gone to stay at his home for a few days. And while she was used to this, she found herself with nothing to do. She had already read most of the books in the library(well, the ones that were in a language she could understand, anyway).

She thought about sewing, but then remembered that Erik had taken her scissors and needles away. Honestly, she had tried to make a dress out of his curtains _one_ time - !

And, of course, there was always singing, but there was a performance the next day, and Erik said that she must rest her voice. And since her teacher had stepped out to do some shopping a few hours ago, she couldn't ask him to play her any music.

Really, if she didn't find something to do soon, she was going to go Carlotta on somebody.

Just as she was beginning to consider searching the lake for giant squids or trying on Erik's clothes, the aforementioned man came in the house. He was holding a small jar and a few new rags.

"Sorry if I was gone too long, darling," he said. "I needed to get more organ polish. It gets dirty surprisingly fast, you know. Probably because I keep banging so hard on it."

"Right," she responded slowly. "Wait, Erik, why is your mask only covering half of your face?"

Indeed, a full half of her teacher's grotesque, nose-less, zombie-like face was exposed.

"Oh, this?" he asked, gesturing to his half- mask. "Well, it seems the phans like this version of the mask better, and goodness knows that we have to keep them happy. You saw what they did to your young man last week."

"Yes, poor Raoul," she sighed. "Where did they even get all those mushrooms? Or the dragon, for that matter?"

There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Christine then thought of something to relieve her boredom.

"Erik, would you tell me a story?" she asked eagerly. "I'm about to die of boredom!"

"A story?" he echoed. "I think you're already familiar with most stories, aren't you?"

"Yes, but tell me a special one. Something like I've never heard before," she requested.

He hummed and scratched his chin for a moment, thinking hard, He then snapped his fingers and retreated to his room. When he came out a few moments later, he was holding a rather worn looking book.

Taking a seat across from her, he opened the book to the first page.

"This," he informed her "is a book I wrote myself. It's full of all sorts of stories. Granted, I was high when I wrote most of these, but I'm sure they'll be fine."

He cleared his throat and began to read. "Once upon a time, there was a mouse named Sylvester. And Sylvester was no ordinary mouse. He had the ability to breathe fire! But instead of thinking he was awesome, the other mice feared poor Sylvester. Most likely because he was a pyromaniac with a terrible temper. And one day, while observing the charred remains of his enemies, Sylvester made a decision.

'I'm going to be a pirate!' he cried.

And so Sylvester stowed away on a pirate ship called the _Black Pearl_. There he met the captain, whose name was Jack Sparrow. He and Jack became good buddies over time. They steered the ship together, drank together, played card together, smoked weed together, went on panty raids together, you name it.

One day, Sylvester and Jack arrives at a magical land called Las Vegas. After a few days of gambling, Jack got into a bar fight and was arrested. Mainly because the police chief didn't like British people. And so Sylvester had to come up with a way to get Jack's bail money.

He walked down the street for awhile, when suddenly, he saw a strange orange door just standing there. Out of curiosity, he turned the knob and was then sucked into a strange land. There were flowers as tall as buildings, buildings as tall as flowers, and everything smelled like pomegranate. The land was populated by a vicious race of zombie-ninja-robots.

'We are the Zoninros!" they decreed. "We are here to spread pomegranate love and kill Zac Efron.'

'Nobody touches my Zefron!' Sylvester cried.

He then breathed fire on the Zoninros. He managed to wipe out a good number of them, but the ones that remained gave chase. Sylvester took refuge in a large purple tree and waited for them to go away.

'You look like you could use some help' a voice suddenly said.

Sylvester turned to see a tall man with a beard and a cowboy hat.

'Who are you?' he asked.

'My name is Chuck Norris,' the man replied. 'And I'm your fairy godmother. I'm here to help you defeat these Zefron haters and help Jack.'

'Awesome! What do I have to do?' Sylvester inquired.

'Take these,' Chuck replied, handing Sylvester a bunch of carrots. 'Everyone knows that Zoninros can't stand the smell of carrots. Also, for some reason, you have to get a sex change.'

And so they fought against the Zoninros and came out victorious. Sylvester, who was now Sylvestra, sold their corpses on the black market and used the money to get Jack out of jail. They then both got hammered and got married and lived happily ever after. The end."

There was a moment of silence.

"Well, uh, that was certainly different," Christine finally stammered.

"Did you like it?" Erik asked. "I got the idea for it while I was watching a mouse rape a scorpion whilst I smoked my opium pipe."

Christine stared. "Erik...what the hell is wrong with you?"

"Many things, my dear, many things," he replied jovially.

"...I'm going to bed now," she announced and walked to her bedroom door. "Oh, and by the way, the phans only like that mask because one half of your face is supposedly handsome, w_hich it isn't._" She then disappeared into her room.

Erik only shrugged and started to polish his organ.

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: ….Yeah. And this is what happens when I'm bored.**

**Review, please?**


	3. Christine's New Guy

**A/N: Thanks to the people who actually bothered reading this. Here's more random stuff.**

**XxxxxX**

It was a normal day in Paris. The sun was shining, birds were chirping, the mimes were planning their revolution, and the Vicomte de Chagny was stepping out of a hair salon.

He had just had his hair styled into a mohawk, and he was now on the way to the nearest gym. He was attempting to appear tougher to try and scare away the numerous phans that loved to torment him so.

As he walked along the side walk, whistling a jovial tune, he was suddenly grabbed and pulled into an alleyway.

Remembering what he learned in that military school his brother forced him to attend, he instantly Falcoln Punched his attacker in the throat, sending the man sprawling to the ground in an unseemly fashion.

"Now look here sir," he said "just because the phandom says that I'm a gay pansy does not make it so! I assure you that I'm quite strong. My girlfriend even spends an hour every night feeling my biceps!"

"That's far more than I needed to know, boy," his assailant groaned.

Raoul gasped at the familiar voice. "It's you! Christine's creepy stalker!"

Indeed, it was the friendly neighborhood opera ghost. He glared at the younger man as he rose to his feet.

"Now, I'm sure that you're wondering why I pulled you into this dark and scary alleyway," he stated. "It's simply because I was curious as to where Christine is. She somehow managed to deactivate all the tracking devices I planted on her."

Raoul stared at him for a long moment before replying. "Um...shouldn't she be at the opera house? There _are_ rehearsals today, after all."

Erik slapped his head and laughed. "Oh, of course!" he laughed. "And here I was searching in bars and amusements parks."

"Tell you what, I'll give you a ride there," Raoul offered. "To the Raoulcopter!"

He ran over to a conveniently placed helicopter a few feet away. He started to fly it, but it soon crashed into some poor person's house.

"Allah above! My home!"

"Mr. Daroga, I am so sorry!"

Erik sighed.

**XxxxxxX**

A few hours, and one huge lawsuit later, our heroes finally made it to the opera house.

"Well, rehearsals should be over with by now," Raoul assumed. "Though Christine usually stays late."

"Yes, I wonder what for," Erik murmured sarcastically. Raoul didn't hear that because he was distracted by the group of mimes across the street who appeared to be making a bomb of some sort.

After searching the stage and her dressing room, they couldn't find any sign of Christine. They stopped to ponder where she could be.

"Maybe she went to my home," Erik guessed. "She's been trying to steal my _Don Juan_ and sell it to some guy named Hammerstein for awhile now."

"Or, she may have just went home," Raoul responded. "She does have a life outside of opera, you know." Erik looked at him like he was insane and even took a few steps back.

Suddenly, they heard some loud noises coming from a dressing room down the hallway.

"My Christine senses are tingling!" they announced in unison.

They rushed to the door of the dressing room and kicked it open with their apparent ninja skills. What they saw made them gasp in horror. Christine was seated on a small couch, kissing another man! And not just any man!

"Piangi?" the other two men gasped.

Christine and her new lover looked up in surprise(they didn't hear the door being kicked in for some reason).

"Oh, uh, hi guys," Christine stammered. "Uh...this is awkward."

"Christine, what are you doing?" Raoul asked, understandably upset. "What are you doing with _him_? What, are me and Tall, Dark, and Creepy over here not good enough for you anymore?"

"Look, you two," Christine sighed. "Raoul, you're a great guy, but being with you is too dangerous. I get at least one death threat a day by some crazy ass phan. And Erik, well, you're a deformed homicidal psychopath who lives in the sewer."

Piangi had no idea what was happening, so he just started to think about pudding.

Christine stood and ushered the two men out of the room.

"I hope you guys don't take this too hard," she said. "I'm sure you'll both find somebody else. Erik, you have tons of phans! And Raoul, you're rich. And handsome. And rich!"

She then shut the door(which had somehow repaired itself). The two rejected men silently walked out into the street.

"Want to go get a drink?" Erik asked.

"Sure!" Raoul agreed. "I'll take us there. To the Hindenraoul!"

He then ran over to a large zeppelin with his face on it. Once again, he only flew it for a few moments before it crashed.

"Mr. Daroga, I am _sorry_!"

"I know you're rich, monsiuer, but how can you afford these things!?"

Erik _sighed_.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N: The mimes are after us...just biding their time...**

**Remember everyone, every time you bash Raoul, a platypus dies and I lose all respect for you. Please, think of the platipi.**

**And yes, I borrowed the aircraft jokes from Family Guy. Enjoy.**


	4. Christine The Viking 2

**A/N: Thanks again to the ones who actually stopped to read this drivel.**

**XxxxxX**

Christine was sitting on a park bench, trying to catch her breath. She had been having a very busy day.

So far, she had done a good deal of damage to the city. She had collected several more hair trophies, which she had braided into a vest(she was so glad she took that hair braiding class in the Conservatorie). She had set a candle shop and a bakery on fire, stole clothing from the aristocracy, and even robbed a few banks. The entire city now smelt of fear...and cookies.

The best part was there were no police around to stop her. They were all bust chasing after some guy named "Valjean" or something. So all the civilians were hiding in their homes, hoping the crazed soprano wouldn't come after them.

"This is going to be easier than I thought," she mused. "These people aren't even putting up a fight! I should be able to take over the country within a week!...But then again, the French are known for their revolutions. The mimes are planning theirs as I speak! Yes, it makes sense that they're just biding their time, waiting for me to slip up. I should go look into this."

And so she ran back off to the opera house, only stopping to check out the new axe shop that had just opened.

**XxxxxxX**

Christine tiptoed cautiously by the door of the dressing room. It was well known that if you wanted to know the latest gossip or news, you should spy on the corps de ballet. They always knew things that nobody else had ever heard of. Seriously, what on earth was "Bieber fever"?

Christine used her special Viking powers to hear through the heavy wooden door. She felt oddly like Joseph Buquet.

"Does anyone know what's gotten into Christine?" one asked.

"I have no idea! It seems as though she's lost her mind!" another replied.

"Maybe she's upset over what happened to the Vicomte," a third voice speculated. "He was taken hostage by a group of hostile mimes a few days ago."

Oh, yeah. She'd forgotten all about that in the wake of her new career choice. She should really go save him some time.

"I'm sure that she'll stop eventually," said the second voice. "This _is_ Christine, after all."

"Yeah, she always was a bit air-headed," stated the first voice. "Maybe this is just another one of her little fantasies."

"Hey, remember a few months ago when she was going on about angels?" came a fourth voice. "She even said that one was teaching her to sing! How ridiculous!"

She really needed to stop drinking. She always ended up blurting out things she shouldn't.

But that was a problem for another time. These people weren't taking their soon-to-be overlord seriously! She was going to have to do something about this. She was going to have to do something big!

She smiled as an idea came to her. This would have everyone in both awe and fear of her.

**XxxxxxX**

Erik was having a bad day.

First, a rat got into one of the pipes on his organ and died, so now his organ not only smelled bad, but it didn't sound right. Then, he heard that the shah of Persia was going to be coming to Paris for a few weeks, so he would have to law low for awhile. And finally, a few phangirls managed to sneak in and steal all of his masks. He was now wearing a paper bag over his head.

He sighed as he reclined in a chair. He tried to think of the things that made him happy. Music, wine, morphine, pork rinds, annoying the daroga, Christine...

Ah, Christine. He should go and see what she was up to. He hadn't seen her since rehearsals that morning, and he noticed that she had been acting a little odd. She had a creepy smile on her face and her hands were twitching. Maybe she was trying to do an impression of him?

He sat up as he heard a sudden noise.

"Who's there?" he demanded. Who could have gotten past his traps? He had fire breathing squirrels down here, for crying out loud!

He picked up a piece of stale bread that was sitting on his coffee table as a weapon and carefully creeped toward the source of the noise. He didn't get very far when he was tackled to the ground.

"Christine? What on earth are you doing? And why are you dressed like that? Is this some new kinky thing you're trying out? Hey, be gentle with that! What are you doing with that kiwi? Nooooo!"

**XxxxxxX**

The workers of the Paris opera house were gathered on the stage, staring at the strange and appalling sight in front of them. There was a man dangling upside down from a rope. He was only wearing a pink tutu and a bag over his head. There was a pair of deer antlers glued to his head and he was covered in some strange green goo.

Christine was standing beneath him, cackling maliciously. "Behold! I have successfully captured the Opera Ghost, your greatest fear, second only to the mimes! Now you must surely respect my power and authority! Bow down to me, worms!"

Once again, they could do nothing but stare.

**XxxxxxX**

**A/N:...**


	5. The Chinese Restaurant Chapter

**A/N: I really need to update this more often. RaverLynn helped me plan a lot of this chapter. We came up with the idea whilst eating dinner a week ago. And I'm not completely sure if there were any Chinese restaurants in Paris back then, but let's just go with it. Enjoy~**

**XxxxxX**

It was a nice evening. It was sunny, and only slightly chilly. There was supposed to be a full moon that night. And as an added bonus, the mimes were busy training their newly acquired army of honey badgers to attack, so they would be busy for awhile.

Christine decided that it would be fun to go out and eat. It would be a nice chance to spend time with Raoul. Also, that way, she could get out of paying.

Raoul thought that eating out was a good idea. Ever since his chef went crazy from listening to the "Gummy Bear Song" too many times, it had been hard to get a decent meal. Besides, this was a good chance to pay a debt.

"What do you mean that you want you want to invite Mr. Daroga along?" Christine asked, confused. "It's been so long since we've been on a proper outing, and I was wanting to spend time with you."

"I know, darling," Raoul sighed. "But, you see, I had accidentally dealt him a grave injury a few nights ago, and I promised to buy him dinner sometime to make up for it. I'm afraid if I don't do it now, I'll forget all about it."

"Fine," the soprano sighed "but won't it be a bit awkward?"

"Well, why don't you invite one of your friends along?" Raoul suggested. "That way, everyone has someone to talk to."

"Alright, then," Christine agreed. She wrote down the address of the restaurant she had in mind and handed it to him. She then went off to find her dinner guest. She had somebody special in mind.

**XxxxxX**

"Christine, what are you doing here?" Erik asked, surprised. "Forgive me for my appearance, but I wasn't expecting company. I was actually about to search the lake for mermaids. That may sound odd, but you won't believe half the things I've found in there."

"That's alright, Erik," Christine responded. Actually, her teacher didn't look half bad in a wet suit and snorkeling gear. "Anyhow, I came to invite you to dinner with me-"

Erik's hopes rose.

"-and some other people."

And those hopes were quickly dashed.

"Christine, dear," he began, sounding exasperated "as much as I would enjoy your company, I do not believe it would be wise for me to be around others. Especially in a public place. I might put people off their food."

"Oh, come on, Erik, it will be fine!" she argued. "Besides, we'll be eating with Raoul and Mr. Daroga. They're used to you enough to be able to eat."

Erik weighed his options. Dining with his nemesis and his annoying friend didn't sound very appealing. But on second thought, this could be a great opportunity to cause some mischief. And the mermaids could wait for another time.

"I believe I'll accept your invitation," he said. "Shall we go?"

**XxxxxX**

They all met at the restaurant an hour later. They had all dressed in good evening clothes, because everyone knew that fancy clothing repelled mimes.

Raoul's eyes widened as he saw Christine's guest. "Christine, why is _he_ here?" he demanded.

"Well, boy, because she invited me," Erik answered smugly.

"I gathered," the Vicomte snapped. "But why _him_?"

"Well, I was going to invite Meg, but she went to visit a platypus farm with some of the other ballerinas," Christine informed them. "Yeah, I didn't get it either."

"C-can we just try and eat dinner like civilized people?" the daroga stuttered. "I know that's asking a lot from you guys, but..."

"Don't worry, my friend," Raoul said cheerfully "We'll be on our best behavior."

"Yes, quite," Erik murmured. "What exactly is this place anyway?"

"It's called Wo Men You Shamenshijun," Christine explained. "It's supposed to serve Chinese food. It's all the rage in the city."

"Sounds tasty," the Persian man said optomistically.

When they went inside, they were quickly shown to a table in the back. It was if the waiter expected trouble from them. Especially the masked one who was glaring at everyone in the building. He didn't like the looks of the woman, either.

Raoul sat by Christine, and the daroga sat by Erik.

"Hm, this place is so tacky," Erik scoffed. "I've been to China, and it was nothing like this."

"Oh, stop your eternal bitching," the daroga scolded. "Here comes the waiter."

Christine and Raoul ordered noodle dishes, the daroga ordered sweet and sour chicken, while Erik ordered a small bowl of rice. He did have a figure to keep, after all.

While they waited for the food, Erik told them a story about how he slayed all the dragons in Mazanderan. The daroga looked like he wanted to protest, but ended up just sighing and shaking his head.

Things didn't get much better when their food arrived. The only cutlery they were given were chopsticks, which they had never used before.

"Um, what do we do with these?" Raoul asked. "Do I wind the noodles around them?"

"You use them like this," Erik said and demonstrated on how they were used.

"Where did you learn that?" Christine asked.

"In China, of course," Erik answered, trying not to sound annoyed.

"Oh, so you actually ate over there?" the daroga asked, laughing.

"Oh, shut up, Nadir," the pseudo ghost snapped.

"You're name is _Nadir_?" Raoul asked, shocked.

"Yes, it is. I believe I've already told you so, once," the former police chief answered stiffly, offended.

"Well, yeah, but I thought you said it was 'Ned'," Raoul replied sheepishly.

"Well, I suppose that explains all those holiday cards I got from you that were addressed to 'Ned'," Nadir mused.

"Leave it to you to make that sort of mistake," Erik laughed. "How many Persians do you honestly think are named something like 'Ned'?"

Raoul, sick and tired of the other man's taunts, swung his arm in order to stab him with a chopstick. Unfortunately, Erik used his ninja skills to push his arm to the side, deflecting the blow. And so the ill-fated chopstick landed in Nadir's eye.

"Ah! Oh, dear, sweet, Allah! The pain!" he yelled.

"Oh, sorry Ned – I mean, Nadir!" Raoul apologized.

After bandaging the wound and receiving a few bribes from the owners so they wouldn't sue, they went back to eating quietly. Erik discreetly stole some of Raoul's noodles just to irk the younger man. Nadir's appetite was ruined, but he decided to eat anyway.

The waiter came back and handed them small cookies. He then backed away slowly, keeping them in his sight until he turned the corner.

"Hey, there's paper in here," Christine observed. "Let's see, it says 'Beauty and wisdom are seldom found in the same person.' Oh, it must be saying I'm one of the rare ones, who are both beautiful and intelligent!"

"Mine says 'It was sunny today'" Raoul read. "Hm, so it was."

" Mine says 'Your face is your fortune. God help you.'" Erik read. "Well, isn't that just _lovely._"

"...Mine is blank," Nadir said. "What does this mean?"

"Oh, I'm sure it means certain death," Erik said jovially. "Or perhaps it means that your future will be just a blank, empty, meaningless void. But, then again, what's new?"

Before a fight could break out, the waiter came back with the check.

"Alright, whose paying?" Raoul asked.

"I thought you were," Christine stated.

"No, I forgot my wallet," Raoul said.

"I assumed that since you invited me, you were going to pay," Nadir said.

They all turned to Erik. He sighed and pulled a small smoke bomb out of his pocket.

"Alright, on the count of five, everyone run."

**XxxxxX**

**A/N: Yeah, this wasn't as random as the other chapters, but I hope it was still humorous.**

**Btw, the name of the restaurant supposedly means "We have salmonella" in Chinese. Sorry if it's wrong.**

**Review if this made you giggle!**


	6. Nadir's Bad Day

**A/N: Yeah, I completely forgot about this story for awhile...And in case anyone was wondering, I keep calling the daroga "Nadir" for the sole purpose that its easier and convenient.**

**XxxxxX**

Sometimes, people could tell it was going to be a bad day as soon as they woke up. Nadir was getting this feeling.

The day had started out as normal. He woke up, ignored the feeling of impending doom, washed his face, and then dressed in a nice suit and fez. After he ate the breakfast Darius made him, he answered the numerous letters from phans who were wondering who the hell he was. But that's where the normalcy stopped.

There was a sudden knocking on his door. Which was odd, since he didn't usually have visitors, at least not at the door. Erik preferred to use the window or the chimney...in the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, dressed as Santa Claus, even when it wasn't Christmas. Especially when it wasn't Christmas.

From his kitchen, he heard Darius politely inquire the name of their guest, only to hear a choked gasp and a thud in return. He quickly rushed to check on his servant, who he saw was unconscious. He then turned to the visitor. It took a few moments to recognize him.

"Monsieur Buquet?" he asked. "What are you doing here?" He never had an actual conversation with the stagehand, but they had seen each other plenty around the opera. And they were both members of the Tom Hiddleston fanclub, which met in the park every Tuesday.

"Look, man, you have to help me," Buquet begged, panic in his voice. "I was just on my way to buy some new binoculars since the ballet girls burned my old ones, and these freakin' mimes came out of nowhere. I mean, they didn't actually say anything so I'm not completely sure what their intentions were, but they were making some very threatening hand gestures."

"But, why did you come to me for help?" Nadir asked. He also wanted to ask how the man knew where he lived, but then decided he was better off not knowing.

"Us Hiddlestoners gotta stay together!" Buquet declared.

"True, true," the Persian agreed. "How can I be of assistance?"

"I just need you to help me get back to the opera house," Buquet replied. "I heard rumors that the Opera Ghost knows all sorts of tricks to scare away the mimes. Oddly enough, a lot of them involve gingerbread."

Nadir nodded in understanding. Erik had picked up many gingerbread-related attacks whilst in Russia.

"Alright, let us be off," the Persian man said. He then gestured to Darius. "But first, help me move him to his bed."

To his surprise, Buquet did something quite unexpected. He pulled a small box with a red button on top of it out of his pocket. After pushing the button, a strange blue box that said "Police Box" at the top appeared in the room. Out of it stepped a man with brown hair, mostly brown clothing with the exception of a white shirt, and a red bow tie.

"Good day, Doctor," Buquet greeted. "I've found another victim for you."

"Oh, good," the strange man said. "Ever since the TARDIS started declared herself a god, it's been hard to find people willing to sacrifice their friends to her."

With that, he dragged Darius into the blue box and disappeared.

"Well, that solved that problem," Buquet said with a smile. "_Now_ we can get going."

He then turned and skipped out the door, leaving nadir staring after him, mouth agape.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he moaned before following the stagehand out.

**XxxxxxX**

"Monsieur, perhaps we should have brought a weapon of some sort," Nadir whispered to his companion as they skulked through the back alleyways of Paris. It was a good thing he took Erik up on those ninja lessons.

"Nah, we're almost there," Buquet responded.

"Wait, if this was so easy, why did you need my help?" Nadir asked.

"In case I needed a distraction, or a meat shield, or both," Buquet replied offhandedly.

Nadir gasped indignantly. Honestly, he didn't even get respect from his "friends", and now this? Hm, maybe it was time to call in one of the many favors Erik owed him. Seriously, how did the man get arrested during a game of Candy Land?

They finally made it to the opera house after a few more minutes. Apparently, the mimes in the area were in a gang fight with the clowns from the traveling circus in town, so they got there without any incident. Nadir thought about going straight back home, but decided to wait just in case that strange man with the box was still there.

Of course, as soon as Nadir and Buquet entered the building, they were assaulted by a swarm of angry ballerinas, which was a lot less sexy than it sounded. More painful than sexy, really. Fortunately, Buquet seemed to be the sole source of their ire, so Nadir was quickly released. He did stay and watch while they pummeled Buquet, though.

"You pervert!"

"Let's cut his beard off!"

"Where's that child support I wanted? You haven't even met Joseph Jr.!"

"Exterminate!"

After they carried him off to some dark corner, Nadir decided to go check out rehearsals. By the looks of it, they were on break. But Christine was showing her friends some some odd Swedish folksong and dance. He found himself singing it under his breath on his way home. "Something, something, something, Caramelldansen!"

He sighed in relief when he finally reached his apartment. Despite Darius being gone, everything seemed to be in order. He decided to forgo dinner and just head straight to bed. He'd had a long day, after all.

To his despair, though, there was a familiar "face" in his bedroom. Erik was sitting on his bed, wearing his Santa suit. What's more, the scoundrel was obviously chewing on something.

"Erik, what are you eating?" he asked cautiously.

"Your socks," Erik replied easily, as if discussing the weather.

"What? Why?" Nadir demanded, horrified.

"They're tasty," Erik replied simply before continuing his chewing.

Nadir just sighed in defeat. He could never catch a break.

**XxxxxxxX**

**A/N: I'm not even sure what this is. Just...enjoy.**


End file.
